and the reason is you
by wafflehood
Summary: In which Carlos has a crush on James, James is kind of accidentally irresistible, they may or may not livestream themselves making out, and Kendall and Logan are coupley in the background because I can't not work Kogan in there somehow.


This was originally based on a post over on Tumblr that I lost the link of but if you recognize anything, that's probably why and much thanks to the person who gave me the idea in the first place~ Also, I know this is the third fic in as many days, which is awesome, but I swear I don't usually post this regularly so don't get your hopes up. It might be a while until I post anything else again, because my next project is a fair bit longer than this. But um. ANYWAY.

PS: I own nothing. Title is from Hoobastank's _The Reason_.

* * *

He and Sammy have been doing... less than awesome lately.

It's hard for him to say that they've been doing _bad_, because that sounds so ominous and final, and Carlos doesn't want that. He doesn't want her to pull away from him the way she's been doing, and he doesn't want her to look at him so sadly, so wistful, like she's not sure if he'd pull away if she reaches out to touch him.

But most of all, Carlos desperately wants to go back to a time when he was sure that he wouldn't. Pull away, that is. Because that's the issue, isn't it? That he can't expect Sammy to know if _he_ doesn't know.

It's all James' fault. Fucking James and his fucking perfect _everything_.

It's a crush. A stupid, _stupid_ crush that Carlos has been harboring for pretty much as long as he's known James, and it hasn't ever been anything more than a distant thrum, a _huh_ kind of feeling way in the back of his mind whenever James is around. And he's not sure why it's been blown so out of proportion lately. Maybe it was Sammy figuring it out that really made him think about it, made him hyperaware of it; or maybe Sammy figured it out _because_ he'd been thinking about it more, been more aware of it. He doesn't know.

But it doesn't matter now. Because now, Carlos is thinking about James when he should be thinking about Sammy, and Sammy knows. She's so understanding and sweet, and she smiled when she asked him about it and said, "It's okay, you know. I think everyone's a little bit in love with James sometimes," and he wants to be fair to her, he wants to make her happy and make her feel loved. He wants to make her feel like a fucking princess, and whenever he sees the sad look on her face when she thinks he isn't looking, (and he hates that she even has reason to think that there are times when he isn't looking at her, because she should just assume that he's _always_ looking at her, because that's what he should be doing), he wants to punch himself in the dick for being such an asshat to her.

He knows he'll lose her if he keeps it up, knows she won't be this understanding forever, but he can't help it. James is always _right there_, smiling and laughing and touching Carlos and mocking everyone and singing like an angel and moving his body in ways that make Carlos want to puke and breathing and _existing in Carlos' presence_, and Carlos is so, so far in over his head, he's pretty sure he's drowning.

ooo

"We should do a livestream," Carlos suggests, glancing at James, Logan, and Kendall as they're all lounging around in the backstage area of the Paramount Studios. James is tapping something out on his phone, pouting a little. It makes Carlos want to reach out and smooth the troubles away.

Kendall and Logan look at each other. Logan shrugs. Kendall scrunches up his nose. "I think I want a nap," he says, stretching a little. He does look tired, Carlos has to admit; there are bags under his eyes the size of fists, and he's been moving a little sluggishly for a few hours now. Kendall nudges Logan with his shoulder. "Join me?"

Logan makes a face. "I'm not tired," he says, but he still lets Kendall drag him off to the nearest quiet place for a nap because Kendall's puppy eyes are the most effective way to get Logan to do anything. Because Logan is really, really whipped.

"Wow," James says, next to Carlos, "Logan is really whipped."

Carlos laughs. "I was just thinking that," he answers, and James throws him a bright, sunny smile that makes Carlos' stomach swoop painfully. James is frowning at his phone again, and Carlos wants to distract him. He clears his throat. "So," he says, haltingly, "livestream?"

James doesn't answer at first, fingers punching out a message with hard, angry movements, and then he stuffs his phone into his pocket and turns to Carlos with the same kind of fake smile he gives annoying interviewers. "Sure," he agrees. "Livestream."

Carlos wants to ask what's going on. He doesn't. He's not sure what he's afraid of.

ooo

They both send out tweets that they're doing a livestream, and by the time they've got it set up and tweet out a link, the response would be overwhelming if they weren't getting used to their fans' continued enthusiasm. It's kind of crazy, actually.

"Hey, guys," Carlos says, cheerfully, waving at the little camera on his computer and smiling a little at the mass of comments they're already getting. "It's just me and James here right now. I think Logan and Kendall are probably taking naps right now somewhere. They were tired."

James' chest is pressed to his shoulder and he can feel James' breath on his ear, because the couch isn't all that big and the computer is even smaller, and if they both want to be able to read the fans' comments, then they have to sit close. Carlos is proud of the way his voice doesn't even falter, of the way he keeps his breathing even. His skin is tingling.

They talk about filming, about that damn horse and about the picture of David in full drag, ("we can't really give anything away, _but_," James says, grinning cheekily, "let's just say that things are going to get extra crazy this season and no one, not even Jett Stetson, is safe"); they talk about the summer tour and how excited they are, they talk a little about their trip to Hawaii; they answer a few questions about their favorite movies, ("I actually just went to see _The Avengers_ the other day, that was really good," James recalls), or favorite books, or if they'll ever come to this or that country, and Carlos can feel James getting more relaxed next to him, watches the smile on his face as it grows and becomes more genuine, until he isn't faking it when he bursts out laughing when one of the messages says _I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU BIG TIME_.

They don't read that out loud, but it makes them both giggle like idiots for a good five minutes.

It's all going well, like every other livestream ever, until suddenly someone asks, _how are things with Sam and Halston?_ It's an innocent question, (it's even followed by a fucking _smiley face_, obviously whoever asked is just trying to be friendly and show genuine interest in their lives), but Carlos still feels his smile freeze on his face.

How are things with Sammy?

He laughs, and it's a shaky, nervous thing. "Um. Me and Sam are doing fine, thanks," he says. James is very, very silent next to him. When Carlos looks at him, his face is pale and his mouth is a tight, unhappy line. "James?" Carlos asks, softly. His heart is hammering stupidly in his chest.

James' laugh is so obviously fake and unhappy that he isn't even trying to pass for normal anymore. He fiddles with his bracelet, (because James Maslow doesn't fidget). "Halston and I broke up."

It shouldn't make Carlos happy. It shouldn't make him have to catch his breath and keep a stupid, selfish smile from pulling at his lips. He should be feeling sorry for James and he does, he _does_, because he likes Halston and, more importantly, _James_ likes Halston, and Carlos wants James to be happy, that's all Carlos wants for James.

"I'm sorry, man," he says, puts one hand on James' shoulder. James' muscles are tense beneath his fingers, and Carlos instinctively starts rubbing gently, trying to loosen him up a little, trying to make it better. James looks over at him and, wow, Carlos hadn't realized they were _that_ close on this stupid, tiny couch.

James' smile is self-deprecating and tired. "Yeah. Me too," he answers.

He looks so small as he sits there, the biggest one of them, and Carlos blurts out, "Sam and I aren't really doing that well either, actually," before he can stop himself. James blinks, just once, and opens his mouth to speak, but Carlos talks over him, "I wasn't going to say anything because—but then you—and I thought it wasn't fair that you were the only one, so I—"

James' smile twitches a little, like he's trying to stop himself from grinning stupidly, and Carlos shuts up. "I'm sorry about you and Sam," James says. His voice is soft and hesitant, and there's something in his face that Carlos recognizes but is afraid to name, because it can't be, it _can't be_ what he thinks it is, there's no way.

"Yeah," he replies, "thanks." His mouth is dry. He tries to swallow, but it doesn't help. James is still looking at him, and his eyes are dark and intent, and Carlos feels a little bit like he's floating.

He's still rubbing James' shoulder. James looks down at his hand, and Carlos blushes, makes a move to pull back, but James grabs his wrist and keeps him in place. "Confession time?" he asks, and his voice is so, so soft, Carlos can barely hear it over the ever-present background noise of people moving about the set. He nods, wordlessly, and the lines around James' eyes are tight and nervous when he says, "It's because of you. That me and Halston broke up, I mean."

Carlos sucks in a breath. His fingers feel numb and his head is buzzing. Maybe that thing on James' face actually is what it looks like. "Oh," he exhales.

James grimaces. It looks _cute_, and, wow, Carlos is so lost for this dumb asshole who is so _beautiful it hurts_, and who stutters, awkwardly, "It's not a big deal, it's just—kind of _there_, you know, like—and it won't affect our friendship or our working relationship, I—" and Carlos is in love with him.

Shit.

Carlos is _in love_ with him. With _James fucking Maslow_. Who is probably the worst person Carlos could possibly decide to be in love with, but there it is.

"James," he says, and James shuts up. "Me and Sam's problems are kind of because of you, too."

And, just like that, they're kissing. James' mouth is soft and warm against Carlos', and his hair is even softer as Carlos tangles his fingers in it, and his hands are clutching at Carlos' shoulder blades, and Carlos doesn't know who moved first, (James, he thinks it was probably James), but then James is pressing Carlos down on the couch and he can't bring himself to care, not about who made the first move or what their friends will say or the fans—

—wait. _The fans_.Carlos pushes James off him, abruptly. James' lips are pink and swollen and slick with spit, and he's pouting again, and Carlos has to physically stop himself from reaching out and pulling him back down. Instead, he pushes up on his elbows and looks at the computer on the table, and, shit, they are in so much trouble, because the livestream is still running, the fans are still watching, (and, knowing them like Carlos does, some of them are probably even _recording it_), and the little comment box in the corner has blown up with what looks to be mostly exclamation points, keysmashes, and a lot of _OMG_'s.

Carlos wants to _die_.

"Shit," James hisses, and then he's reaching out a hand and slamming the laptop shut. He looks down at Carlos sheepishly, eyes wide and freaked. "I probably shouldn't have done that, huh?" he says, and his voice cracks a little from the effort of keeping it light.

"Probably not," Carlos agrees, weakly. This is so, so bad.

James averts his eyes, lets his bangs fall down until they're covering half his face, (and fuck him for having cut his hair but _still_ having bangs to hide behind and look that irresistible doing it, seriously, _fuck him_), and all Carlos can see is the way he's biting his lip. "This is really bad timing, I know," James admits, and he shifts a little where he's straddling Carlos' hips, which makes it _really hard_ for Carlos to even try to be upset with him, "but, um. Shouldn't I have done that in general or—was it just because of the livestream?"

Carlos isn't sure if he wants to hit James more than he wants to kiss him, because, no, not the best timing ever _at all_, but on the other hand, it's not like he regrets the actual _making out_ part of this whole disaster. So he rubs a hand over his face and says, "Let's just not have any cameras in the room next time," and watches as James' face lights up in _that_ grin, the one that makes all the fans squeal, the one that kind of makes Carlos want to squeal, too.

"There are no cameras now," James points out, and Carlos knows they should probably start doing some damage control, or at least tell the necessary people that they might have just potentially ruined their careers, (and Carlos really needs to talk to Sammy, wow), but James is still sitting on his hips, and he's smiling, and he _looks like James_, and Carlos can't say no.

They'll deal with everything else later.

ooo

Sammy takes it a lot better than Carlos feels like he deserves. She hugs him and wishes him and James the best, tells him to keep in contact because he's still her best friend, and Carlos never wants to let her go, but James is waiting outside and Carlos goes to him.

Kendall and Logan accuse them of stealing their thunder, bitch that it isn't fair that they've been keeping _them_ a secret for over a year, and Carlos and James accidentally out themselves the first time they make out, but they're smiling and their eyes are sparkling, and Carlos knows that it's their way of saying that they approve.

The network and record company mostly take it well. There's some good-natured grumbling about the circumstances, some very detailed instructions on how to handle the fallout, ("denying anything is just going to make it look like you're ashamed, so don't do that, but try not to get too caught up in the media circus"), but no one pulls the plug on anything.

Ciara and Erin mock them for a week. Niall tweets something excited with a lot of smileys. Avan calls them and congratulates them. Every single one of Carlos' family calls him up and tells him how happy they are for him, individually, and Carlos misses them so much sometimes.

Nothing really changes.

Except James. Except how Carlos can reach over and James will be right there, and Carlos can touch him and he won't be pushed away, and James will roll his eyes and laugh and call Carlos a clingy bastard but he'll _let him_, he'll pull Carlos closer and let Carlos cuddle into his side, and it actually scares Carlos how easily he could get used to this. How easily he could adjust to having James in his life like this forever. How easily he could fall for James, fall hard and fierce and permanently. How easily he could let James become his _forever_.

But then James smiles at him, soft and secret and just for Carlos, and Carlos' stomach feels warm and fluttery, and it doesn't feel all that scary at all. It feels like him and James, like this is what they should be, like this is _them_.

And honestly? Carlos could live with that.

Easily.

* * *

A/N: the formatting on this site is all messed up so if you want to read this where it's all pretty and not weird, head on over to my Tumblr (wafflehood . tumblr . com) and read it there. and, Dear Little Sister: No, I will not start capitalizing my titles. I like them like this. Much love~


End file.
